


Lion Heart

by houxvertetbruyere



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Slavery, The Eagle AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houxvertetbruyere/pseuds/houxvertetbruyere
Summary: A The Eagle AU for Trektober Day 10 - Historical AU
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25
Collections: Trektober 2020





	Lion Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I was told it would not be confusing if I referred to James T Kirk solely as Tiberius. I'm no sure I agree with my own decision to do that.

The arena is crowded this morning, all of Rome seemingly packed into the stands. Tiberius wonders with distaste why the spectacle of bloodshed draws them out more than the return of wounded soldiers ever could. His leg aches at the thought.

He wipes the sweat from his brow and turns his attention to his uncle.

“What was my father like?” He asks.

The old man looks thoughtful.

“You father was a perfect Roman… and all that that implies.”

Tiberius cannot help but scoff.

“The man who lost The Eagle was the perfect Roman?”

“How the The Eagle was lost no one knows but if he died defending it, he died honorably.”

Tiberius is about to retort when a large man in the pit calls, “And now, a fight to the death!” The cheer of the crowd around them swells out any thought of conversation.

Tiberius turns his attention to the arena. A gladiator strides about, muscles glistening under a sheen of sweat, sword and shield raised high. 

With the sounding of a coronet a grate on the far side of the pit opens and a man with blue tattoos trailing up his right arm is shoved out. The man’s stomach is concave, his ribs show bruising where a boot or a knee has struck him. Red marks around his neck and wrists tell of his captivity. Despite the signs of his treatment he is striking to behold. 

The set of the man’s eyes call to mind a man unafraid to die. His expression is one of stoic pride, contempt emanates from him. Tiberius can’t take his eyes away yet he finds he desperately wishes not to see this. It will not be a fight, it will be a slaughter.

“It is a slave!” Tiberius complains to his uncle. “A gladiator and a slave is never a fair contest- never!” His uncle simply looks at him, bemused.

In the pit, the gladiator approaches the slave, his stature imposing as he looms over the underfed man. Yet the slave maintains his posture, his face more defiant than Tiberius has ever seen on a Briton. The crowd shouts and jeers. Calls to ‘kill him’ and ‘slit his throat’ can only be in the Gladiator’s favor.

The slave stares down his killer, seems to taunt him with his gaze but then he raises his shield and sword out to either side and throws them to the ground.

“No!” Tiberius says. His guts twist up inside him.

“Now there is bravery,” his uncle says. “He is going to give himself his death.”

Tiberius glances at his uncle with a frown. There is honor in choosing your own death, true, but he can’t fathom going down without a fight. He is sure this man would not be choosing this if he had any other options.

The gladiator brings the pommel of his sword down across the slave’s face and the crowd roars. Kicks and blows fall upon the slave, blood appearing at his brow and running down his nose. Still the man does not pick up his weapons. 

Tiberius’ fists are clenched tight enough for his knuckles to ache.

“Fight!” the crowd shouts, “Get up! Fight him!” Bold words coming from these citizens who have never seen real battle. Tiberius feels ill.

Again and again the slave gets knocked down. Again and again he rises. 

The gladiator rounds on him, kicks him in the stomach. The slave drops to the ground and this time, does not attempt to rise again. He pants where he lays, blood flowing from his wounds.

The gladiator raises his sword, points the tip of the weapon to the man’s heart. He looks around the arena, waiting for the crowd to decide if this man lives or dies. 

Tiberius can’t breathe. All around him are jeers and boos, everyone signaling death. 

“No, no, life!” He gets to his feet on shaky legs. “Life!” He shouts.

The slave’s eyes dart over to him. A look of confusion in them.

“Give him life, you fools! Get your thumbs up!” He’s desperate in a way he can’t explain. He has seen death, worse deaths, even. He has watched his men get beheaded by northerners, have their bodies dragged across fields and through rivers. 

He can’t stomach this senseless killing. Not now. Not of this man.

“Life!” Someone near him yells and the crowd’s favor begins to turn.

The gladiator takes his direction and backs away, sheathing his sword.

He slowly levers himself up but continues glaring at Tiberius.

“Well,” his uncle says jovially when he collapses back down, “that was unexpected.”

-+-

Two days later he’s calling for Stefanos to help him wash his wound when his uncle enters his chamber instead.

“I’ve decided Stefanos is too old to care for you any longer. I’ve gotten you your own body slave.” His uncle informs him with a smile.

“I don’t need a slave,” Tiberius insists, though even as he says it he struggles to lift himself to standing.

“Don’t be silly” his uncle waves him off. “Slave! Come forward! His name is Leonard.” And with that his uncle walks away leaving the beaten black haired Briton from the arena standing in Tiberius’ room. Oh, the smug bastard.

Tiberius can’t meet Leonard’s eyes. Especially not in this state, with his weakness so on display. A man with that much pride will surely look on Tiberius with shame.

“I have no need for you. I did not ask for a slave.”

“I did not ask to be bought.” Leonard retorts, looking straight ahead.

Tiberius smiles despite himself. 

“Perhaps you should have run,” he says, taking a painful step. “My uncle would have let you.”

“You saved my life. Where I come from that means something.”

Tiberius sighs. 

“Well I don’t require your services today. You may go to your quarters. Clean yourself, tend to your wounds. I’ll get stefanos to make up a plate for you.”

Leonard hesitates but does as he’s told. When he leaves the room Tiberius collapses onto his pallet. 

-+-

“You’re a fool.” Leonard says to him one evening in his chamber.

Leonard has just finished rebandaging his thigh. Even the gentle pressure of his fingers makes the muscles sing.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t keep pretending you’re okay. That leg is going to get infected, there’s still metal in it.”

Tiberius looks at him sharply. “What would you know of it?”

Leonard sighs and gives him a long look from his position on the floor.

“I was a healer in my tribe. As was my father, Aoigh. He saved many lives that would have been lost at Roman hands. I know a badly healed wound when I see one.”

Tiberius examines the bitterness in the man’s tone. Thinks about the ache in his thigh that has turned to a fire in recent days.

“Can you heal my leg?”

Leonard grimaces. “It won’t be pleasant, even if I can get the proper tools.”

“Make a list of what you need. We’ll go to town tomorrow.” 

-+-

The pain of surgery is like nothing Tiberius had felt before. He can’t recall any other detail of that day but searing pain and the soothing low voice of Leonard talking him through it.

But in three months’ time he feels like a new man.

Leonard looks like a new man, healed and well fed. He’s a larger man than Tiberius would have thought. Muscular, not in the way of a centurion, but of one who uses his body for labor and sleeps well at night. It’s a sight that warms Tiberius low in his belly.

They’re both glad of the warm weather freeing them from his uncle’s stuffy company. They’re out hunting boar in the woods by spring, laughing and sparring in the fields by early summer. 

Tiberius forgets himself at times like this, with the intimacy of their touches. Leonard is only here with him because he’s his slave. It is a dangerous game he’s playing at, pretending otherwise.

-+-

After being insulted so thoroughly at supper, his uncle’s pompous guest sneering, “Jamus Tiberius? Oh yes, I know that name. Didn’t your father lose 5000 men and the Eagle standard in the north? I’ve misplaced a few trinkets in my time but a whole legion! Well…” Tiberius is furious.

He seethes, spills his feelings to Leonard about lost honor and family name but it’s Leonard who comes up with the idea.

When Tiberius tells his uncle about it, that he and Leonard are going north of the wall to search for the lost Eagle and regain his family’s honor, the man laughs at him.

“You would go north of the wall with a Briton? Are you mad?”

“I trust Leonard with my life. He swore an oath to me.”

“That is because he is your slave. North of the wall he will leave you to die at the hands of the Brigantes- or slit your throat himself and never look back.”

Tiberius looks at Leonard for a long moment. The man holds his gaze steady, giving nothing away.

“If I trust him wrongly and I die, then that is what I deserve.” He tells his uncle but he keeps his eyes on Leonard’s as he says it. He would bet his life on Leonard’s loyalty a thousand times over.

-+-

The months spent searching the glenns for a sign of his father’s legion, any trace that may lead them to the Eagle, are brutal. 

It begins well enough, the two of them hunting rabbits for their meals, sharing wild summer fruits that Leonard deems safe. In the evenings, as the chill settles in around them, they share blankets and body heat. Waking up in Leonard’s strong capable arms never fails to make Tiberius shiver. It never fails to fill him with shame, either. No proper Roman fantasizes about the hard heat of a slave’s cock against his back.

The conditions get dire quickly after the first month, though. He can’t interact with anyone they meet lest he get them killed by speaking Roman. He’s completely reliant on Leonard. He learns the man’s name, Leonard Mac Aoigh, carries weight. 

“It means Lion Heart Son of Aoigh, and my father is well known in these parts,” Leonard tells him one day. 

“You know something of honor and family name, too.” Tiberius replies. “I would have been honored to meet your father.”

Leonard is quiet the rest of that night until they’re pressed together under the blankets.

“Why do you call yourself Tiberius when your given name is Jamus?” 

Well, Tiberius doesn’t have a good answer for that question.

“It is my father’s title. I began using it as a centurion. Trying to right his wrongs, perhaps.” Leonard doesn’t reply to that, just hums in a way Tiberius has learned means he’s displeased. Tiberius can’t fathom why. 

Leonard moves in close under the blankets and Tiberius falls asleep to the sounds of his deep slow breathing that night.

If he’s honest with himself, Leonard begins to be short with him long before the Seal Prince comes along. He stops communicating with him after asking strangers about the missing Roman legion, just moves them on at a faster pace.

He stops sleeping next to Tiberius or sharing his smiles and Tiberius is suddenly being dragged along to the Seal Clan as Leonard’s slave. 

Tiberius truly cannot believe what a fool he is for putting so much trust in the man. He doesn’t blame Leonard for the betrayal nearly as much as he blames himself for bringing them to this point. For forgetting their positions so thoroughly. They had felt like equals but they weren’t truly and Leonard won’t let him forget his mistake again.

Warm days wrestling by the river in Calleva haunt his dreams and he sleeps fitfully in the slave tent.

When the Seal Prince attacks him one day he wants to fight back but the look in Leonard’s eye is so cold he’s frozen to the spot. 

“Kneel,” Leonard orders him in Roman.

“Kneel, slave!” He follows his order with a slap to Tiberius’ face and he falls to his knees.

When Leonard grabs him by the hair and bares his throat to the Seal Prince Tiberius doesn’t have to speak the language to understand the meaning. He has a sudden flash of Leonard’s face the first time he’d seen him. Proud but unwilling to fight. He had thought the man was unafraid to die. Now he knows being resigned to your fate doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid.

His heart breaks fully that day. 

Pride deserts him as he cries himself to sleep in his tent.

So it is with great shock, a week later, that he wakes to Leonard shaking his shoulder. The man is telling him that the Eagle is here, that they must make haste if they are to rescue it and get away with their lives but all Tiberius can hear is ringing. 

Leonard hasn’t deserted him. He can barely breathe for the relief coursing through him.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He chokes out, hand on Leonard’s cheek.

Leonard’s whole face crumples- just for a moment. It looks like he might say something, Tiberius can’t imagine what. Then they’re busy stealing back the Eagle and running for their lives and Tiberius doesn’t have a chance to think of much but survival.

-+-

Leonard is clearly furious with him for keeping his wound a secret but as they hide in the river, pressed into the mud of an alcove while dogs bark around them, he can say nothing.

Tiberius is so tired. He’s lost too much blood and hiding out in the freezing river means he can’t heal.

Leonard’s mouth has been a tight line of concern since he found the blood on Tiberius’ side.

He can’t go on. They are so close to the south but the Seal People are advancing. The barking of their dogs is nearer now.

“I won’t make it, Leonard, you have to take the Eagle and go.” Leonard’s face is fierce when he shakes his head.

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Leonard, I’m- I order you.” Leonard won’t take the parcel from him and Tiberius doesn’t have the strength to do anything about it.

“I swore an oath to protect you, not that damn thing,” Leonard snarls. Tiberius would sob if he had any strength.

“I can’t go any further, you know I can’t. Please, take the Eagle, don’t dishonor me like this.” 

“Alright I’ll go,” Leonard grits out, “if you free me. I won’t go as a slave. Set me free and I’ll go get help but I’m not taking that, you hold onto it.”

Tiberius blinks away tears.

“Yes, of course, I set you free. You won’t be my slave nor anyone else’s ever again. You’re free.”

Leonard takes off running.

He truly doesn’t expect to ever see him again. He hopes the man comes back for the Eagle, though maybe it’s a bit selfish. He doesn’t like the thought of his death being as pointless as his father’s.

-+-

Leonard is full of surprises. Wonderful, lovely surprises.

Tiberius will have time to be delighted about that later, once he kills the Seal Prince for daring to attack his friend.

-+-

When they’ve delivered the Eagle to the State and walked back to his uncle’s on their own terms, proud free men with cleared names, Tiberius can’t help himself. He whoops and grabs Leonard around the middle, lifting him and spinning him around as soon as the door to his chamber is shut.

Leonard squawks in protest but when Tiberius sets him down they’re both grinning. There are red spots on Leonard’s cheeks that he finds very tantalizing.

“So,” Leonardl asks, “What’s next?”

“You decide.”

Leonard’s grin intensifies. It’s a bit like staring into the sun.

“How do you feel about breeding?” Leonard asks. Tiberius chokes on his tongue. Leonard’s eyes go wide and he’s quick to correct himself.

“Horses! Breeding horses!” 

Tiberius is pretty sure his face is red now, too. What an image that one word conjures. For a moment he gets lost in the memory of Leonard curled close behind him, arms enfolding him, breath hot on the back of his neck. 

But then a thought occurs to him.

“My father left me a farm in the country. We used to have horses before he… went north. I’m sure we could again.” Tiberius hasn’t thought of his childhood home in some time but the idea of bringing Leonard there now fills him with excitement. 

“It’s not so grand as my uncle’s estate, nor as close to the city but there is an orchard to the south and a plentiful river along the east and we would not be bothered by Nero.”

Leonard is looking at him with fondness. Tiberius stops walking and lets him look. It’s a very nice expression on the man’s face. He can’t help but compare it to the cold cruelty the man had shown him with the Seal Clan. He knows now that Leonard had been playing a role the whole time. He did what he had to to keep them both alive and Tiberius won’t soon forget it.

“You would like to breed horses with me on your family’s farm?” Leonard asks. He paces the words slowly, though. Something strange in his voice tells Tiberius that he’s asking more than just what the words imply.

“It would be my honor to be with you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even back north of the wall?” Leonard asks with a brow lifted. 

Tiberius licks his lips and takes a step closer to the man.

“Anywhere. If it’s with you.”

Leonard smiles a small tender smile that Tiberius has never seen before. He takes Tiberius’ hands.

“WIll your uncle be visiting often, at this farm of ours?”

Oh, he loves how the word ‘ours’ rolls off of Leonard’s tongue.

“No,” he laughs, “my uncle is too preoccupied with State business to trouble himself with a country farm. I think we would be left quite alone.”

“Hmm,” Leonard hums. “And will you be free from Roman codes of honor then?”

“Be plain with me, Leonard,” he begs. “What are you asking?”

“Jamus, I have wanted to kiss you every moment since before I was a free man. I’m hoping you’ll let me and not feel shame afterwards.”

Tiberius’ eyes flutter closed as he leans into Leonard’s space and finally, finally, kisses him. It’s so warm and sure he could cry. Leonard wants this, Leonard asked for this. Gods above, he’s never been so happy.

“I don’t worry about shame so much these days.” He whispers. He can feel Leonard’s smile against his mouth.

“Oh yeah? What do you worry about then?”

“Happiness,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of Leonard’s mouth. “Satisfaction.” He kisses the man’s jaw. “Keeping that smile on your face.”

“Hmm,” Leonard hums. “I might have a few suggestions for those.”

“Yeah,” Tiberius whispers into Leonard’s neck. “Anything, if it’s with you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts: James doesn't have a Roman root so I made one up!
> 
> The origin of McCoy is Mac Aoigh and/or Mac Aodh according to wikipedia.


End file.
